Respect

Though I am posting this on Blabberwocky, this is serious. I just thought I would be able to reach out to a lot of poeple through Blabberwocky. This is for all self-respecting indivuals. All of you must have heard about a pony-tailed guy called Arindam Chaudhuri who runs an institute called IIPM and has written some rotten book. Beware! He is like Parnab.
Quizzers might have heard about Gaurav Sabnis. He USED to work for IBM. He pointed out some of the hilarious claims of IIPM on his blog.This resulted in him resigning from his job and being slapped with a 125 CRORE lawsuit. IIPM are filing suits against all bloggers who "defame" their institution. A 21 year old girl who came out in support of Gaurav has also been threatened with a 175 crore lawsuit.
My ignorance prevents me from doing something. Will better informed indivuals please chalk out a plan so that we can prevent Gaurav from getting into further trouble.

Maddox Square and all that

The lights are blinding, the air smells of bubbling oil and grease, the jabber and chatter are deafening, the earth whimpers in protest against the millions of kicking feet. No, dear reader, you aren’t dashing to glorious immortality in the Battle of the Bulge. You’re entering Maddox Square on Saptami evening. Something tells me the Bulge would’ve been safer.

All hell breaks loose. The entire city seems to be here, decked out in her glittering green sari and his new burgundy kurta. There is an apocalyptic feel to the whole thing, as if this is everyone’s last day alive, and must be made most of. Comparisons to the Black Hole of Calcutta spring, not inappropriately, to mind. You need to pick your way around, taking care to avoid stepping on the innumerable ebullient groups of young men and women sitting on the grass and having the time of their lives. Having navigated this human minefield successfully, you breathe a sigh of relief – the main pandal is a mere hop away – only to sink into wet mud. “O well”, you say, brushing aside these minor inconveniences, “the greater end, etc”, and walk into the mandap.

And then it hits you. The crowd seems to melt away as you walk towards the protima (the process is speeded up if you happen to have, like I did, a friend weighing close to 30 stone clearing the way for you). The sheer grandeur is breathtaking. The Goddess with her large beautiful eyes, the heady fumes of incense, the foot-tapping rhythms of the four dhakis… there is something so fabulously irreligious about Durga Pujo. It is the one time of the year when the Bengali shakes of his lethargy and actually works hard at having fun. There’s song and dance, love floats in the air, old friends greet each other amidst much backslapping; Pujo is when the good times roll, and it almost makes the horrendously overcharged three-hour journey worth your while.

But come next Pujo, you’d be well advised to do what I’ll do – kick off your shoes, order pizza and reread Goodbye to All That. It’s easier on the nerves.

And Back Again

Well...Blabberwocky, in conjunction with the Cornell University Literature Dept., is organising an online protest parade against thinkers, intellectuals and philosophers. Those of you blessed enough to actually have a fast internet connection can watch the parade (which will take place in Ithaca, New York State) Wednesday week, the 19th of October, on the Cornell website. And now, for some more grotesque ways in which thinkers died...here are some I came up with after a prolonged session in the watering hole :

Samuel Beckett - impatience
Roland Barthes - destructured (Aniruddh suggests 'orgasmed'!)
Mikhail Bakhtin - eaten by circus lions
Edward Said - shanghaied

Thank You. Stay tuned.

Ed's note: Vladimir Propp just folkin' died!